The Road Not Taken

On a Dark Deserted Highway. Cold wind in the air, among other things.

“SNAP” -- that is what I heard first. It was muffled, but I heard it. The car began to swerve to the left, gently at first, and then suddenly into a series of tight spins.

This story takes place way up North on Christmas Eve, 2022. I can tell you there was definitely something in the air that night, in addition to the snow of course.

Read with Abba, Fernando

It’s around 9pm, on a Saturday. We[1] set out earlier that morning to deliver a few Christmas care boxes and are now on the return trip. We are driving down a long stretch of rural highway in a snow storm. It’s 5° F outside, pitch black, with blustery winds shaking the car.

There’s snow, lots of it, some newly falling but mostly from another more intense blizzard the previous day. With each gust, through the headlights, we see snow scurrying and flittering across the road -- forming “Lazy S” patterns -- almost like some unseen hand is sweeping the road ahead of us as we pass over it. They do that as a courtesy, of course.

The Unseen Hand

Image Courtesy of PFFK #7

This was the second blizzard in two days. This was a blizzard that was not forecast by the weather experts. This was a blizzard I did not expect to run into in the cold hard night.

When we started out that morning, it was a regular winter day and the forecast seemed fine. Cold, some precipitation, but nothing like what we ran head into on this return trip.

I have driven in blizzards before -- some worse than this one, most unexpected -- and not really worried. Besides, the heavy snow floating through the headlights, beneath the street lights above us, and across the red and white lights of cars on the road in front of us is really quite beautiful and peaceful.

It really was exceptionally beautiful and perfectly picturesque. Fine white snowflakes, glowing against the blackish skies, themselves amplified by what stray light there was reflecting off the snow cover.

This entire trip should have taken 4 hours; however, at this point we had been on the road for more than 2 hours and were not even half way.

All in all, though, it was shaping up to be a pleasant drive.

Oh yeah, did I mention it was Christmas Eve?

Stick a Fork in It

As Yogi Berra said, when you come to the fork in the road, take it.

There are two main roads to make the return trip. Both roads start out in the same place, diverge and eventually meet up 100 miles or so later.

Road 1. The road most travelled by, the scenic route. It mirrors the shoreline of a giant lake to the East and runs through many small towns -- most with traffic lights! It is almost always busy and, since it follows the shoreline of the giant lake, has lots of curves in every direction.

Road 2. The road less travelled by. It runs through farmland and wooded areas, with not many towns and few traffic lights. Mainly farmers and other folks use this road. Strangely enough, the overhead highway / navigation lights are better.

Most folks take Road 1 -- the most travelled road. It can be fun. However, for no particular reason, and without even thinking about it, we chose Road 2 -- the road less travelled by.

Just like in the Robert Frost poem -- The Road Not Taken (1915)

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --

I took the one less traveled by

And that has made all the difference.

And that is exactly what happened! And I am here to tell you why. I mean, like, literally. If we had not taken the road less travelled by, I fully believe I would not be here to tell you anything. I wouldn’t be here at all. It would have been curtains for me. Not joking.

There are several things that saved us that night -- involving that road, at that time, in that snow storm.

Sell Me This Road

Like most rural highways, this one is mostly a 2 lane road, with four-lane passing sections set out periodically every few to a dozen miles, and punctuated by small towns -- most without traffic lights! -- every 20 - 30 miles.

On either side of the road, we see farm land and alternating wooded sections from time to time. The farm land is typically lined with barbed wire fences. Next to those barbed wire fences, snow drifts are piling up and covering the deep ditches on either side of the dirt and gravel shoulders of the highway.

Overhead, we see street lights hanging in upside down “L” shapes every few hundred yards lighting the way.

Or, more accurately, we didn’t really “see” all those things, given it was 9 pm, in the middle of a blizzard, on a road with few lights.

All we really saw were red tail lights of the cars ahead of us -- or the headlights of the cars coming our way -- framed by the falling snow. For long stretches, though, there were no cars and all we could see was snow flitting across the windshield and through the high beams.

The road conditions were fine. We passed by several snow plows clearing the roads along the way. Traffic was light. No brass monkeys as far as the eye can see, which is not far.

Because of the blizzard, we were only driving around 40mph -- and were maybe two hours away from an Interstate where we could make better time.

I am glad we did not get to the Interstate that night.

Oh yeah, did I mention it was Christmas Eve?

Hale’s Bales

We had just passed through a town called Hale. I saw a bunch of hay bales at the country store with Christmas decorations on them. My Grandparents used to bring in hay bales for Christmas and set them up for all the kids to play on. So, I smiled.

On any other Saturday, at 9 pm, in a blizzard when it was 5° F outside, this particular stretch of road would most likely have been empty. Because it was Christmas Eve, though, folks were coming back from the traditional Christmas Eve Mass before Christmas Day, and there were a few more cars on the road. In fact, a half hour later or earlier would have been different.

We could see the red glow of a set of tail lights about 50 feet ahead, using them as a pathfinder of sorts.

We were a few more miles out of town, entering a four-lane passing section.

Everything seemed fine. Then . . .

The Spinned and Snap

SNAP. I heard it. Muffled but distinct. In less than a second, the rear of my car began to drift slowly to the left, into the opposing lanes, then snapped into a ferocious wide spin, and then into ever tighter faster turns, like a ballet dancer doing pirouette training. Or like a vinyl record -- one of those old 78 rpm types -- spinning on its turntable.

I turned into the spin, as you are supposed to do, but had no control authority, like at all. The car continued to drift to the left with the momentum pulling the car further along the road.

We had now drifted fully into the opposite passing lanes, as the backward motion almost stopped and I could feel we were about to move forward.

Fortunately, there were no cars coming towards us.

At that point, the car went air-borne. It was another slow motion feeling, flying through the air, what seemed like for minutes. I did not know if land or water was on that other left side of the highway.

Out of nowhere, though, it felt like that unseen hand had picked up the car and gently placed it in the giant snow drift which had formed up against the barbed wire fence.

Slow motion bled into regular time, as my body rebounded against the door, releasing some airbags I didn’t even know existed. Thankfully. Otherwise my head may have gone through the glass window. I would not have liked that.

Take out Your Papers and Your Bags

As I attempted to get my bearings, I could not open my door. I went through the steps in my head.

Grab your bag.

Grab your vehicle information.

A calm but clear voice: “Get out of the car. The car is smoking”.

The engine was still running, though, so it was not actual smoke. Once we turned the ignition off, we were fine and got back in.

I was wearing a red and black letter jacket from Gruver High School, which I bought for $3 at the thrift store run by the Senior Ladies of the Methodist Church. It is not only the most comfortable jacket I have ever worn; it is the warmest. So I was not cold. Here’s the interesting part, though. This was probably the first time I wore this jacket. I grabbed it as an afterthought when we set out that morning.

I have a mostly regulated nervous system, not this time. My hands were shaking. How could this happen? I had new tires that were less than four months old and everything had checked out fine.

Thankfully there was cell service, and I rang AmEx for “roadside service” amenity they offer cardmembers. Or, at least I should say, they “offered” -- past tense. I know somewhere, someone is reading this and laughing -- someone other than me, that is. After a few minutes an automated voice informed me that AmEx no longer offers any type of “roadside service”. Thanks for the head’s up, there, AmEx! I said a few choice curse words -- in my inner voice. Like what am I going to do? It’s 9 pm on Christmas Eve, on a rural highway and the snow is accumulating. Am I stuck here?

I was not.

Ride Sharing is Caring

“You need a ride?” There was a man in a double cab truck, with his window rolled down and I wasn’t getting Ted Bundy vibes. I was not even getting Al Bundy vibes.

“Hop in and I will take you into town.” I looked back and scanned everything in my car. I saw the book I was reading, which oddly enough, was about McDonald County in Missouri. You know, where Pineville, a town of 3 people, is located? Where the great Cattle Heist took place in 1979, all as more fully and accurately described in the Episode entitled “Return to Cinder“?

Could this book about McDonald County be the cause of a streak of bad luck? I have never had a car accident like this on Christmas Eve . . . or ever. Is there a Pineville curse that is reoccurring? Like it started in 1979 and is still attached to my bloodline?

The answer is no.

Accident on Purpose

It turns out the cause of the “accident” was much more sinister. Remember I told you about the One Person Rule -- i.e., that in any given situation, anything bad that’s happening can usually be traced back to one person.

I will tell you who that one alleged person is below. For paying subscribers, that is.

Down Yonder Way

Hopping in the truck, I was still shaking. Mr. Bright, as I will call him, said he was just coming home from Christmas Eve services at his church. I expressed my gratitude. He then suggested when I get settled to “call the state police to report the accident. Otherwise, they might think it is an emergency situation”. That turned out to be good advice.

As I was writing down his instructions, he then said “tell them your car is at the corner of Dolphyn Road.” I thought I mis-heard him. “Could you repeat that?” I asked. “The corner of Dolphyn road,” he repeated.

My shoulders dropped. I relaxed. My breathing slowed, and I became super calm. At Dolphyn Road! The save was from Dolphyn’s people -- on both sides -- who lived in this area, some for generations and had probably dug out that exact road.

Right then, at that moment, I knew everything was going to be OK. He went on to say he was retired from John Deere. I knew this was my cue to say “nothing runs like a Deere”. He laughed. I grew up in Deeres during summer harvests. I even drove them way before I ever had a driver’s license. John Deere’s headquarters in Illinois was designed by Eero Saarinen -- a shinning light of design and architecture. If you’ve ever flown out of JFK airport, you may have walked through the old TWA Flight Center he designed.

Before I move on, I would like to call out Mr. Bright for stopping to help. I would also like to call out the 3 or 4 other folks -- including the driver of the massive municipal snow plow we had passed about 30 minutes earlier. Most of the folks who saw us stopped to help out. We declined at first, until Mr. Bright showed up.

Snow Time for Sergeants

Mr. Bright pulled up to a local Beach Resort -- on the shoreline of that giant Lake to the East -- where their sign said “Vacancy”. I was surprised it was even open. It was. I thanked him again and wished him a Merry Christmas.

Once checked in, I rang the state police -- spoke to a Sergeant -- and answered their questions. Once their patrol found the vehicle, he said, he would call a tow truck and have the car towed.

About an hour later, he called back. Found the car. “Did you know the rear passenger side wheel had separated from the vehicle and was hanging on by its suspension?” I did not know that. That side of the car had bellied up against the fence, so I couldn’t see it. Plus it was dark, and snowing, and really cold. “The conditions out here have gotten a lot worse”, he continued. “We will get your car towed tomorrow” -- Christmas Day -- “and get you a police report for insurance in you need one.”

I asked if the car had broken any of the barb wire fence, in hopes that no livestock had escaped. The answer was no, and there were no livestock.

Christmas Morning -- Cool Cool Summer

Read with Bananarama, Cruel Summer

The local Beach Resort was quite a place. Their indoor pool had a swim up window to the bar. There were a few other folks there having Christmas breakfast. It was one of the best breakfasts I have ever had. The eggs were like satin sliders, and the toast was a perfect blend of buttery crispness -- though I wasn’t able to finish either of them.

My phone rang. “Go outside, look for the blue SUV with the red bubble on top.” It was the State Police. They were here to escort us to the nearest place to rent a car -- about 65 miles away -- through three counties. The first officer would hand us off to the next officer in the next county who would get us the car rental spot. Strangely enough, it was open.

Oh, by the way, that Sunday morning drive, on Christmas, was one of the most beautiful blue sky days I have ever seen. The State police are really good people too.

Coca Coda

A few weeks later, we delivered gratitude boxes to each branch that had provided an escort. I made boxes, with a red “gumball” on top, packed with lots of goodies.

Later that year, I finally found Mr. Bright’s address and had an Ina Garten cake shipped to him and his family. Great cakes, by the way.

Snow Country for Old Fence

The barbed wire fences in these parts were probably put in over hundred years ago, when the area became mainly farmland, after the ancient White Pine forests had been cleared out leaving behind a field of stumps. It makes me sad to think about that.

Sometimes, when you inspect these old log fence posts, you will find cast iron railroad spikes from when the railroads came through there in the late 1800s -- so the robber barons could send their stolen White Pine timber downstate, after wiping out the great White Pine forests that had been there for thousands of years, after the glaciers melted, of course.

Anatomy of a Snow Drift

When it gets cold -- below 10° F or so -- snow practically takes flight. Even light winds will create some pretty hefty snow drifts, especially on the leeward -- i.e., downwind -- shoulder of a road, driveway, highway, person.

When the snow is that cold, it is luxuriously flight and fluffy. Think of the powder at Aspen, Vail, Telluride, Breckenridge, Park City, Jackson Hole, etc., -- and other ski resorts I can name-drop without ever having been to. Well, not true, I have been to most of those. The deep powder snow is also very insulating and a natural shock absorber.

So, in our story, the wind was coming from the right and snow drifts were building up on the East, i.e., the left, the opposite shoulder, the one we drifted into.

The ditches on side of the are deep -- maybe 4 - 5 feet and about 10 feet wide. Fortunately, the snow drift had completely covered the ditches and snow level was almost to road level.

Never Mind the Furthermore

So what happened?

To anyone that knows me, they will know that if I am ever to be in a car, it will most likely land on 3 days. Christmas Day, Christmas Eve and my birthday. The year before, I had driven 1,300 miles to Gruver TX to do a tree lighting in the giant 75 ft tall Blue Spruce outside my Grandmother’s house -- which seemed as wide as it was tall. The tree lighting was to honor not only my Grandparents, but everyone who came before us and built a thriving community out of dirt. Half the town showed up -- some from as far away as Dallas. My family did not. What jerks are they?

That was the last time I saw my Grandmother. For our Christmas Episode this year, we will feature that tree lighting. It was magical.

Back to our story.

So let’s work backwards. Kathy who has coordinated new tires for me for almost a decade. I asked her “was there anything out of line when all four(!) tires were changed in August?” She replied “no not all. Daum’‘ . . . yes, that is a real name . . . “and I both did a double check. God was looking down on you.” I agreed and thought it was more than just God. I reckon there were more than a few spirits involved, and it was a complex operation. If any part went wrong, it could have been curtains for me.

I also thought like someone was taking up God’s time when they should not have been -- for which they need to feel some divine comeuppance, which is in God’s unseen hands and not mine.

Who did it? Here is how, in my totally First Amendment protected opinion, I think it happened, who did it, and why . . . for paying subscribers, that is.